


Ginger Bread Houses

by InLoveAndSqualor



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Bandom - Freeform, M/M, MCR
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-04-03
Updated: 2009-04-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:19:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InLoveAndSqualor/pseuds/InLoveAndSqualor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A frerard fairytale...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ginger Bread Houses

_Life, Frank thought, was rarely glass slippers and enchanted mirrors._

_There were no grand castles, no brave knights and no happy endings._

_Life is not a fairytale._

_But his story, their story, this story, it is fiction most delicate, a tale of true enchantment._

***

Once upon a time, in a tired grey town, lived a lonely prince. A prince with the palest complexion, the softest rose coloured lips and deepest darkest raven hair. So trapped in this dark world was he that his precious spirit weakened and his eyes began to dull. The beautiful prince was becoming a lost soul. Locked away in his own prison built, he sat day after day by his window waiting for love, longing for summer. It had been summer here once in this land before; but now snow covers the ground and blankets all. Once the sun had shone and gay flowers of azure and violet and the prettiest shades of pink grew; but now it was forever winter. Nature lays buried and sleeping beneath suffocating cold. The prince he slowly becomes the child of this kingdom, growing ever akin to the chill.

Frank had heard once that there was a land of ginger bread houses. A land where the sun never stopped shining and the people never felt alone. When he was a boy he had sat open mouthed upon his mother’s knee imagining those golden brown buildings, glowing in the sunlight, with icing shingled roofs and candy framed features. He’d imagined with wonder how those perfect happy people might have looked with the naïve excitement of a child.

Cold and alone Frank turned away from the grey view from out of his window and headed for the sanctuary of his bed. Slowly he retreated with a heavy heart that weighed his weary body until it screamed resignation in every step. In his bedroom he changed into his night clothes, lit a candle and turned to draw his curtains. Hands grasping the heavy rich sapphire blue velvet he closed his eyes and sighed at his lonely heart. Eyes open he pursed his lips together and took a final look at the dark land. Strangely the landscape lay lit up with an eerie glow. The brightest light came skimming across the sky and through the clouds. A shooting star. He smiled faintly following its progress across the night.

“Make a wish,” he whispered to himself through weary lips, eyes flecked with tears.

And he did wish. He wished with his broken heart upon that bright shooting star. He wished to be alone no more. He wished to never to feel alone again. He wished for happiness and love and for ginger bread houses. He wished that the dreams and wonders of his childhood could truly be.

Frank laughed a sad laugh at himself; watched his shooting star disappear behind dark looming clouds and closed his curtains.

Frank fell asleep cold and alone. As cold and alone as he had always been.


End file.
